


Ace Above Snakes

by GrumpSupport



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpSupport/pseuds/GrumpSupport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an Overwatch Mafia!Au in which Jesse McCree never joined after the recall and remained in Deadlock after the fall of Blackwatch, Hanzo is sent on his first mission as an agent of Overwatch to investigate and eliminate if necessary. However, a series of unfortunate encounters and the first ever miss in his professional Assassin career makes the characters take a turn. Hanzo and McCree deal with their difficult pasts as they make their way back to Overwatch HQ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a whisper of a sound, but he knew exactly what from and from whence it came. In the dark pillars that surrounded him in a void, the hissing of vicious, scaled creatures loomed. Hanzo was frightened. He knew that these were his dragons, however he felt unruly about their presence, as if he no longer held command over the beasts. _Shimadas can control them…_ He thought to himself, lying for comfort.

He turned, facing pillar after pillar only to catch glimpses of the astral blue scales passing in the black. He stood as if to keep his head down from sudden attack. This feeling made him uneasy, as he felt a sense of hunter becoming the hunted. Not in a physical sense, but as a shiver up his spine- a looming thought in the back of his head that would not abstain from it’s presence. 

The serpents let forth a foul hiss, letting their full presence be known to their master. They twisted between one another, approaching majestically, scaling far beyond the height of Hanzo. They looked down upon him; a sense of dread and humbleness and guilt weighed heavy in his mind. _The man has failed his beasts._ Whispered his own voice without a conscious thought to spoken word. It came from everywhere, and nowhere, chilling him to the bone.

The dragons released a wailing roar, of what Hanzo interpreted as sadness and anger- both showing the differing emotion. In a fluster of unsteady helplessness, Hanzo drew back Stormbow and knocked an arrow, but as he did, the bow faltered and wavered until it shattered into a million splinters in his hands. The dragons loomed, swooping down through his person. He felt whole, and empty all at once. _I am not their target._ The thought rushed to the forefront of his mind. He just knew somehow. He turned the directions rushed to. Horrified, a second glow joined that of the blue astral beasts, clashing against one another.

_Green…_

Hanzo recognized in anguish. Anxious, he could do nothing but watch the spectacle. The two blue dragons twisting their way around the lows of the green serpent; suffocating it’s movement. The jade serpent wailed out in fear and pain- a sound that Hanzo winced to in a painful manner.  
It _hurt_ him. _Hurt_ him to hear his brothers screams within the serpents own.  
“NO!” Hanzo burst out, hands to the height of the cyan serpents who stood idled at the command of their master.

“Not again…” He huffed inaudibly.

The dragons hesitated for a minute, staring knowingly into Hanzo’s eyes. They bowed their heads, and suddenly struck at the jugular of the green dragon, who screeched out in a dying breath. Hanzo screamed with as he watched a familiar scene. He was on his hands and knees, bowing, pleading with the serpents to relieve him of this pain. The dragons again scaled far beyond the mans height, looking down in a disappointing guise. A whisper came through, loud, angry from nowhere but everywhere again.

_You have sinned, Hanzo. Yield yourself. You failed the Shimada clan- failed the only kin that cared for you. You have no home… No family… No honor. You are less than a dirt among men, Hanzo._

The serpents rushed down, swirling tightly around Hanzo’s body, and began setting his skin aglow in blue flames. 

_Reclaim your honor, Shimada-san. You will become whole again._

Hanzo woke, the whispers of the dream still echoing in his mind moments after clearing his head of the tie of sleepiness. Greeted by the dull hum of engines and the soft clatter of loose things as the carrier thumped along with the turbulent winds. He was sweating, but only slightly. His throat was dry and his hair gone astray. He put a hand to the bridge of his nose, as if trying to wipe the dream from it’s existence.

A small shiver up his spine, and a twang of pain through his head, he silenced the thoughts with an immense amount of self control. Grunting, he unbuckled himself from his seat, steadying on a hand rail hanging from the top of the carrier. He looked around the large aircraft. Observing various ordinary object, fire hydrants, med packs, oxygen tanks. A large holotable laid next to the small ladder leading to the cockpit, and showed where the carrier was on the globe. Hanzo stood before it, monitoring their location, how long the journey would last, and how fast they were going.

Mach 2, traveling over the Tyrrhenian Sea, a little over half way passed Italy. The journey would only take another 3 hours. It’s been a long flight. The woman who came to pick him from Hanamura- Tracer, she called herself- detoured the 38-hour flight through Nepal and Greece. They had just lifted off this morning at early sunset. Hanzo did not venture much outside the carrier, he had no adventurous desires like his escort did. A spry, young woman, who liked to talk until her mouth was full of useless conversation. He found it nagging, but also at the same time pleasantly distracting. She had encouraged him to visit a restaurant in Greece, to which he declined. Only one thing mattered right now; getting to Genji. This is all that mattered.

_Ten years…_ He thought to himself. He quickly excused the thought and made his way up to the cockpit with a small granola bar that Tracer had left for him earlier. 

The girl was sat back in her seat, watching a game of football between England and South Africa. She dug into a small red plastic bag of candy and popped the small brown orbs from between the bend of her forefinger and thumb, launching them up and catching them with ease in her mouth with an obviously satisfying crunch. She smiled every time when Hanzo observed her catching one of these.

“Mornin’ love!” She cheered, sitting up and pausing the game on the holoscreen, pushing it aside on it’s wall mount and out of her way. Hanzo regarded her lazed position. She scratched her head. “Don’t worry love, Athenas got me covered on piloting for now. Just wanted to catch up with news back home, y’know?” She looked playfully guilty. Hanzo nodded, careless about her pursuit. “It is not of concern to me.” He simply said, taking the seat next to her. She smiled at him cheerfully, and sat back. “Sleep well?” She tilted her head cheerily. He grunted and nodded. “It was adequate.” She gave giggle, addressing the silence Hanzo left. She rengaged. “Excited?” She asked anticipating his reaction. His expression did not change. “Not particularly.” He shrugged.

Tracer snorted. “O’ course you’d say that love. You didn’t seem excited by anything we’ve done so far. What’s got you all rattled up about?” She didn’t expect an answer, but she seemed to have struck something in the archer as he eyed her with a look of tenderness. He hesitated, looking back to the metal floor. “I have not known my brother in a long while…” He began, but quickly locked back up. “That is all.” He sighed, giving a hint that the conversation was over.

Tracer gave a look of playful sympathy. “Aww, I’m sure it’ll all be alright once you’re settled. Don’t you worry about a thing love.” She winked, giggling she slunk back down in her seat and pulled up the holoscreen and resumed the game. Her words, even though slightly meaningful, had stayed with Hanzo. _Childish._ He regarded; Perhaps not to her, but also perhaps regarded himself as such. 

———

The rest of the journey passed in a drift of time that went both quickly and slowly. Hanzo played a game of Shogi, of which he tried to teach Tracer, but ended up playing by himself. Tracer binged some of her favorite TV shows, which Hanzo curiously listened in on and commented on continuity errors which lead to many _shush_ and _hushs_. Hanzo carefully made some tea. He wrote calligraphy, taught some characters of katakana to Tracer, of which he was surprised to see how well she remembered them. Cleaned Stormbow, and even tried to meditate, to which he was unsuccessful. Mainly because of the shouts Tracer would automatically make whenever a football player would score, or get close to scoring, or missing completely. He rolled his eyes. _Loud. Unruly. Unnecessary_ \- He noted.

The carriers speed decreased as Tracer took the controls from Athena again. “Cheers love! We’re in approach to Watchpoint Gibraltar!” She shouted back from the cockpit, interrupting a thought he was writing down. He strapped himself down to a chair and held Stormbow. He had to actively remind himself that he was not meant to harm anyone once he landed- this was not a mission for harm, but connection. He sighed, knowing he would have to be personable and decent to his hosts, knowing that that normally took small talk- something that he seemed to lack in. _A mind wasted with useless buzzing of unimportance._ He reminded.

The carrier’s gravity shifted as Tracer turned to get a better angle for landing. Hanzo’s stomach rose to his chest as she very sharply and quickly lowered, turning sharply to the landing pad with a thud onto the ground. What she lacked in intimidation she made up for in aggression behind the wheel, apparently. “And TOUCH DOWN love!” She shouted, unstrapping herself excitedly. She cut off the engines, opening the hatch and blinking out as fast as she could to greet her comrades who had gathered to greet the two. She began her ramblings of the trip, the detours to Nepal and how cold and unique it was and the stop in Greece and how sunny and delicious the food was. Hanzo gathered up the rest of the things that he could not fit in his bag, and steadily made his way from the carrier door.

He observed as the group of individual’s attentions swiftly changed from Tracers retellings to his own approach. He felt all eyes on him as they grew quiet. Hanzo did not like being backed up like a wolf in a corner. He felt a small amount of awkwardness and annoyance. He did not know what to say or do.

 

Finally, Winston, after readjusting his glassed on the bridge of his nose approached. “Hello Hanzo Shimada. Welcome to Overwatch.” He smiled, placing a large hand on his shoulder in a welcoming way. Hanzo looked to him and the others in stoic gratitude. He backed up and bowed down fully. “Arigatōgozaimashita.” He said, straightening out. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I wish to redeem myself.” He said, knowing of nothing else to bring up.

The overwhelming majority of the crowd waved and welcomed him. A particular person did not. A tall woman who wore comfortable, loose clothes, and who’s bright blonde hair was put up into a sloppy pony-tail with her bangs hanging loose. She gave him a gaze that could kill a sinner in just one glance. He felt pins come over him. He did not know what he had done, but whatever it was for, she hated him- that much was clear.

A man with dark skin, lime green scheme and dreadlocks skated up to him, excitedly. “Hey there! I’m Lucio, the one and only audio-medic! Winston told me to show you around and accommodate any of your need!” He stretched out a hand for Hanzo to shake. Hanzo regarded his skates, ignoring his hand. “Oh yeah man! These are my way of getting around. They ain’t prosthetics, but they’re sure fine!” He reached a hand over the side of his face to cover his mouth and looked suspiciously at Tracer. “They make me arguably the fastest member of Overwatch. Your bro told Winston that you might want a fast tour, so he asked me to do it instead of—” He pointed a thumb behind him at the excited orange brit who was riding on a large mans shoulders and happily shouting about something about the football game. 

Hanzo paused, looking around at the group of people. He had noticed Genjis absence when they had landed, but he expected him to be here when the rest of them greeted their landing. He looked to Lucio. “Where is my brother…?” He asked, cold, like stone. Lucio smiled, “Oh he’s out with Zenyatta running errands for us! He’ll be back a little later.” the man assured. Hanzo was struck with frustration, but he contained himself so as not to make a foolish spectacle of himself.

“Anyways!” the skater said with a jolt of newly found energy, “Let’s get this show on the road!” He smiled wide and skated a couple of times around Hanzo as they set off.

———

 

Lucio had given Hanzo a tour of the Watchpoint, quickly too. Out of everyone he has interacted with for a long while, he seemed to tolerate Lucio the most, as he was more considerate to Hanzo’s preferences. At the end of the tour, Lucio showed him to a large metal door. He pressed a couple buttons on the side of the door and it slid open leading into a small metal dorm. It was dusty from being unattended for so long. There were two windows of moderately small size lining the far walls on adjacent sides. The low sunset orange flooded through the glass, making the room look warm and welcoming.

“This is the room with the most windows. Your bro said you don’t like tight spaces all that much, so we tried to accommodate… But too bad, the Watchpoint was built for active duty, so it’s kinda dangerous to have many windows. But we tried! There’s plenty of open space elsewhere around!” Lucio tried to cheer. Hanzo went in and placed his things on the end of the bed. He turned to face Lucio, and gave a raised eyebrow and a bow of thanks. “Thank you for the help. If I will, I need to organize my belongings.” He stood close to Lucio, who was stood directly in the doorframe which blocked the giant metal slot from moving into it’s proper place. Lucio put his hands up somewhat awkwardly and backed out of the doorway. He smiled and was about to acknowledge his thanksgivings when the door slammed shut in his face with a metallic _shink_. 

Lucio backed up and scratched the back of his head. “Man, tough crowd to hype, huh?” He said to himself. He shrugged it off, placing headphones over his ears and skating off, elsewhere.

Hanzo settled himself, finally in isolation again, able to hear himself think, able to concentrate. However, this too was dangerous. Thoughts of the dream and painful memories threatened to be reminded to his psyche, something that he could not stand or have the will to fight off in his exhaustion. He needed to focus on the next thing. He brought many things from the dojo. Posters of proverbs, hand-made calligraphy, his tea set, his Shogi game, his journals and his cleaning kit for Stormbow along with several other robes. 

He settles the final details of his room and decides that it’s again time for some tea and meditation. He uses the supplied instant-heating kettle that was probably placed here on the request of Genji. As he meditates to the smell of burning bamboo incense, bathing in the warm orange lights that buries the room in a pumpkin glow, he sips his green honey tea. Taking in the serenity of his surroundings, he tried to acquaint himself with their soon to be familiarity; reminding himself that this is his home now. No longer the dojo, and no longer any reason to run. No longer needing to skip from hopeless pursuit after another, a small ripple in the large pool of a mess that the Shimada-gumi has provided him with trying to clean for the past 10 years. He was home… More or less. He had Genji. He had a new team to be dependent upon, and to share burden with. The thought didn’t particularly enthrall him, but it brought a weird form of comfortable mundane- a somewhat enjoyable change in comparison.

After a long mediation- which had lead itself astray with the thought of seeing Genji- he decided he had had enough. Standing, he brushed his lap of whatever small amount of dust that had maybe settled there during his relaxation. He took one last look at his new room. _A fresh start…_ He told himself before leaving his nest.

He was told where to find Genji by Lucio, who had made a point to say that he had learned this information from Zenyatta- Genjis spiritual guide and caretaker. Hanzo wasn’t particularly fond of Zenyatta from what he had heard so far- his hopeless notions that the world could be at peace, and that ascension spiritually was the way to unlock the truths of this world. Foolish delusions Hanzo appropriately named them. Call him a pessimist, he didn’t just observe that the glass was half empty, but that that in and of itself was not good and could not be refilled with simple notions of doing so. Peace and harmony required actions, not philosophies. This is his absolute belief, and has been what he has observed his entire life.

He headed out of the bay area, and into a large wide opening lined with metal streets. A small door that lead to a small shack that gave way to stairs to the flat roof. He headed up that way. Arriving at where he was told Genji was, he did in fact see his brother for the first time in a while. He had encountered him before a couple months prior when Genji warned that the world changed, but this was the first time he _saw_ his brother. The first time the thought that his little brother was alive. And even more unthinkable, _happy_.

He loomed behind his brother, who was deep in meditation against the tangerine sun over the salty horizon, trying to think of what to do next. Thankfully for him, Genji made his brother aware that his presence had been noticed. The green glowing, cyborg figure stood, looking in the direction of his awestruck, awkward brother. Suddenly, a sense of anger, and sadness and gladness and happiness rushed over Hanzo’s mind in a vicious flood, threatening to drown him. He felt the threat of tears come to the back of his eyes- which he pushed back fully. He didn’t know what to do. The incredible urge to both run away, or embrace his brother in a tight hug gripped his mind together as one.

Genji walked to his brother, and broke the silence. “Brother.” He greeted warmly. “Welcome home, Hanzo.” An audible smile hidden in his words. That was the saying that did it- Hanzo gave in to his urge, embraced his brother tightly. Desperately clinging to him, as if he was going to lose him again. Genji hugged back, warming his brothers cold guise. A moment later they broke their hug, Hanzo tried to wipe back his expressions of relief and general mushiness; trying to steady his pride and ego.

After some catching up, and reestablishment of inside jokes to try and keep it light hearted, the conversation seemed to steer into dangerously silencing territory. Finally, as the sun stretched its last tendrils of warm light over the horizon, Hanzo’s mind had wandered astray to his past misgivings. He was conflicted- however still relieved- about seeing his brother again. For every time he looked at his brother, images of their past would flash by. _Could this really be my brother?_ He found himself wondering. But alas, convincing himself so, flashes of the horrors of what he had done to Genji- why he is the green cyborg, meta-human that he is. Being with his brother was both a gift and a curse now; and there was no running now. Hanzo needed to redeem himself, and his honor… And his psyche so he could sleep restfully. 

“Genji…” He hesitated at first. His thoughts choked his mind, and he could not focus on one. He couldn’t seem to find the words, which made him even more guilt ridden. It wasn’t like he had not talked to himself about his past misgivings in the past 10 years, he just never expected to admit them to another person- let alone his brother.

Genji predicted his topic, knowing the guilt that weighed his brother down. He laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder firmly. “Hanzo, my brother. I know that you wish to reconcile your past. I admire that, and accept your need for change. But perhaps, brother, that now is not the time to revisit your grief. I am here, and you are with me. Should that not be enough at the moment?” He looks down from the platform and observes Winston and Tracer moving boxes from one of the trucks into the main corridor. “Serve these people, and they will help you find your new path, Hanzo. They are good people. Clear consciences. Trust them Hanzo, they are your new family.” He shakes his brothers shoulder. “Now come, let us make tea and talk of old, better times!” He laughed in a hearty robotic voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo gets used to his new life in the Watchpoint, and takes on his first mission- unbeknownst to what will happen.

The next morning, Hanzo awoke around 0500. Somewhat groggy from the restless struggle of sleeping in a new and unexplored territory, he stood from his bed. Yawning hard, he began his morning routine. It was easier to do because he had everything he needed around him- contrast to the many months he spent on the run, and in forests where it took extra work to find what he needed. He did a round of exercises, rigorous, the type that wake you up and make your lungs sting. After that, he put tea on, and hopped in the shower. The space that he had to make meals and tea was small, but it would do (Preferable for his private routine to the large kitchen in the main hall). He wrote out some calligraphy and journaled some thoughts, reflecting on his somewhat brief conversation with his brother, and the hateful gaze that was given to him by the blond woman who he now knew as Angela.

After his morning routine was over with, he contemplated between looking for the rest in the main corridor, or going to the training range that had been mentioned to him by Lucio. He had decided on the latter when he grabbed his bow before opening the door to be greeted by his brother and an Omnic fellow- Zenyatta. He had never met the bot before in person, but Genji had told him of the Monk, speaking highly of him.

Hanzo grimaced at the Omnic. Again, he was not very fond of the peace-loving, foolish robot philosopher.

“Good morning brother.” Genji greeted. The omnic gave a friendly wave. “Walk in harmony, Hanzo Shimada.” Zenyatta welcomed. Hanzo withheld a grunt, and rolled his eyes subtly. “Greetings.” He said simply.

Genji held out an arm that motioned for him to go down the hall that led on from the   
arm. “What is this?” Hanzo asked, wondering what his brother would need from him this early in the morning.

“Can I not ask to just spend time with my own brother after 10 years of nothing?” Genji remarked, sounding sarcastic. Hanzo seemed put off by this comment.

“And can I not have time to process this? Have you not considered that I may need time as well.?” He said rather loudly, looking stubbornly down and asserting his body motions to be more ridged with every word. A long silent pause took hold of the hall.

Finally, the Omnic spoke, with an arm placing itself on Genji’s arm. “Come Genji, everyone has their ways of processing large events. We must let him do it his way.” Zenyatta nodded to excuse himself and Genji. They both bowed and walked off, leaving Hanzo looking the opposite direction. Hanzo shook his head, and with Stormbow was off to the range.

The range was a giant room filled with whites, grays and blacks. It had varying types of training programs and equipment set up, he suspected for those in Overwatch that fight without long ranged, or firearms. He was only interested with the targets that were hung against the far wall, blocked off by a barrier low enough to lay out clips of ammo and shoot over. He approached a station, and took out Stormbow, inspecting it for some time. He noticed that some of the wood around the tension point (Which was near the handle) was beginning to chip. Something he would soon have to fix. He drew the string back as far as normal without knocking an arrow first, just to see if the chipping would have any negative effect at this point. He didn’t see much more contortion, so he decided that for now it was okay.

A few minutes later- after inspecting it further- he knocked his first arrow of the day. He took aim at a target about 10 meters away and fired, hitting the bullseye mark. Unsurprised by his results, and continued to lose himself in his art. Around an hour later, the com crackled as a deep voice rang through the range. 

“Hanzo, we are all gathered for breakfast, would you mind joining us?” Asked the voice he recognized as the large ape in charge- Winston was his name, he recalled. Content with the amount of meditation he had done, he put his bow away and made his way from the range into the main corridor.

He was greeted to a sea of faces all smiling bright and early. Someone, (Probably Reinhardt) had made a large, meaty breakfast, along with fruits for those among them that did not eat meat. He sat at the end of the table with the least amount of people. As he sat, he was offered some fruit, to which he hesitantly accepted. He gazed at Wintson, as if to ask for his attention. After a minute, Winston turned to face him, catching his gaze.

“Welcome, Hanzo. Good morning.” He smiled, taking a bite of a banana, its tip covered in peanut butter. “You summoned me for a reason?” Hanzo asked. Winston nodded. “Indeed I did, friend. It’s a little early, but I thought you might want some breakfast before we got to business.” He smiled at the archer. Hanzo looked disinterested in the food before him and shook his head politely. “No, thank you. I have already had tea. The fruit is enough for me.” Winston nodded. “I see. Well you’re welcomed to stay before the meeting.” He gave another big, welcoming smile. Hanzo nodded and bowed. “Arigatō.” He said graciously.

A long while had passed, the group chatted away with their mouths full and their bellies hungry. Lucio had talked about a new album that he wanted to work on while he was making himself a vegetarian parfait. Reinhardt was enjoying some cheeses and sausages while talking to Tracer and Torbjorn about his favorite victories; which were both consumed in while they ate breakfast. Tracer with a proper English breakfast with beans and sausage, and Torbjorn with fruit, cheese and bread. Winston was talking to Angela about some of the supplies that were needed about the Watchpoint- Angela was eating fruit, a croissant with jams and yogurt. Zenyatta and Genji- who weren’t eating- sat, seldom speaking as they meditated.

Eventually breakfast was over, and everyone funneled into the briefing room after washing off their dishes. They all sat around a large holotable- all except Hanzo who didn’t know if it was his place to sit. Winston was at the head of the table holding a clipboard when he cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back up on his face; everyone paid their attention to him.

“Alright.” He began, “Now that we have enough of a team and a home base, I’ll start giving out assignments to people- “He hurried the next phrase in, “That being said, not everyone will be leaving the Watchpoint as there’s still much work to be done.” He looked at his clipboard counting over the lines with his finger. “And some of you have a solo mission... You won’t all be getting partnered up.” He eyed Hanzo. Hanzo wondered to himself- was he to be alone on his first mission? At first it surprised him, but he was reminded at the sight of Angela’s that not everyone on the team fully trusts him.

Winston passed out the assignments to people. Hanzo was handed a large folder, which when he opened it spilled with information- both digital and paperback. A few leaflets threatened to fall out, but Hanzo persisted in holding the file still. He flipped through the papers, and at once was greeted with a face- a face he knew.

“This is an Overwatch member…” He stuttered, somewhat shocked, looking over the details of the mission he had been assigned. “Why have I been sent to do reconnaissance work on an ally?” He looked up at Winston, who sighed and replaced his glassed on the bridge of his nose.

“He isn’t an ally anymore… He hasn’t been for a long time, in fact.” He walked over to Hanzo and searched through the leaflets, finding a very specific piece of paper. “I’m not sure how much you know about him, but he originally joined Overwatch over taking jail time.” Winston explained, picking out a picture of a headshot of the man. “He was part of the Deadlock gang-” Winston started.

“Deadlock… I’ve had dealings with them before- when I was head of the Shimada clan. They were ruffians who had no place in the business of arms dealings. We never could be agreeable.” Hanzo looked back at the picture of the broad, gruff man holding up his headshot panel with what he could swear was pride. “You are telling me that a member of the Deadlock was once a member of Overwatch? I had never seen him before the news made headlines about Overwatcha and Blackwatch.” 

Winston nodded. “He was actually a member of Blackwatch to be specific. A good member, too. He fit in perfectly with the militaristic style of things- although it didn’t last when Blackwatch was shut down.” Winston sighed again. “I can tell you that he lost his family. The two people that meant to most to him in Blackwatch were the two commandors that had been assigned as head. The founder of Overwatch- Jack Morrison- and the head of training, Gabriel Reyes.” Winston scrolled over the tablet that was attached to the file, showing Hanzo a picture of the man when he was young next to what he could only assume were the two men aforementioned. “It’s a long story, I can’t tell you all of it right now, but I can tell you that once Overwatch and Blackwatch were shut down, he went back to Deadlock. Now we have new intelligence about an incident involving a car crash that was apparently caused by the Deadlock gang due to a high speed chase.” Winston flipped through several pictures of the accident. “A boy was orphaned as a result…” Winston said slowly with a pained look on his face.

Hanzo looked saddened at the thought as he picked up a picture of the young boy and his family. “We’re sending you so that you can investigate the Deadlock activity and if they have actually resumed their normal business affairs, and if necessary eliminate the head man. Last time the head of the gang was caught the remaining gang members left the area in fear of Overwatch. While you’re there, look for him.” Winston pointed to the man. “If he is back in Deadlock, bring him home. He’s better than this, we know it, but he’s just lost his way because of the shut down we think.”

Hanzo looked through his record more extensively over the next few hours, seeing that he had a long history with the law being less than friendly to him. Most of the reports were from his time in Deadlock, but some of it was directly after the fall of Overwatch as a solo gunslinger bounty hunter. Hanzo grimaced to himself. _How could someone like this stand to abide by the laws Overwatch instilled… Did he not have trouble adjusting…? Hard to believe they let criminals join Overwatch…_ Hanzo would have reminded himself that he himself was technically a criminal, but excused it due to the fact that for the last 10 years he’s been running and taking down his own criminal organization. He thought that probably counted for _some_ good karma.

Hanzo had studied his assignment as thoroughly as he could, learning as much as he could about the man. He joined the rest for dinner in the main corridor, and said nothing the entire time as people made chatter of useless things. All he could think about was his mission set before him, how it might turn out, and what people might think of him when he returns. He made mental notes about what he would disguise as, and what he would do to accurately gain information. He decided on making a 3D scale of the terrain and studying the best points to plant bugs, and sneak around if he had to get a closer look on the activity.

It was late by the time he had finished. He yawned and stretched out, rubbing his chin while he concluded his thoughts. He made his way back to his room, doing his nightly routine, he settled into his bed finally with only one final thought-

_Bring Jesse McCree home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter... Little thing about me, I kinda daze out when I write, so sometimes I'll write really blandly... My style likes to change depending on how inspired I am or how racked my brain is to write, so excuse if there is an obvious difference.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early. Very early. It was time for Hanzo to catch his flight from Gibraltar to the United States. He would be dropped off as far as it was safe to go without being spotted- Porte Rico Airport. There he took a cross-continental plane to Dallas, Fort Worth International airport, and from there take a hypertrain link to Deadlock Gorge. Hanzo packed lightly, hoping that there would be a laundering station somewhere near where he was to stay. He packed only the necessities, not bothering to take any of the things that he would normally call on to meditate or relax. The only thing he allowed himself to carry from his normal routine was a hotplate, tea leaves and a tiny travel-sized tea set- and of course Stormbow and his normal attire- which he packed away in a separate compartment in his luggage bag that not even airport security could x-ray through.

Before Hanzo departed, he was made- to his horror- to arrive in Deadlock in a Hawaiian print shirt (The ones that all tourists wear), and was given a budget to pick out business attire that would imply he was some form of foreign contractor, looking for a place to buy land for a new company building. He was able to pick out a couple different suits, and some casual wear- enough that would last for 5 days. 

Possibly the hardest part for him, Hanzo was made to act personable- something that he obviously wasn’t a natural at. In the Shimada household, it mattered only to be on task, serious, and deadly. But it was a matter he thought he could overcome if it was necessary, but that does not mean he will not be secretly brooding about such a task.

A couple of hours later, Hanzo stepped finally off of the hypertrain to a small and rather shanty looking station. Graffiti covered the grimy, steel walls, and the holoscreens that lined the station had gang signs and street artists signatures covering almost everything of importance. Hanzo sighed, towing his small suitcase in tail as the train emptied it’s passengers. For a small station, a lot of people seemed to be getting off of the high speed train- he assumed there were other connections that stopped at the station. The station was open on the sides, and the view was that of sheer cliffs filled with sand, cacti and heatwaves. The large, dark iron bridge loomed a silhouette in the sun over the small settlement below. Hanzo approached the edge of the station looking out over a rather large road that seemed to end at a diner of some sort, the tall bridge casting the only shadow around. There was a silence to the town, no hustle and bustle of humanity, and if Hanzo didn’t know better, the only essence of life resided in the small breeze that whipped dust from it’s place and tumbleweeds across the terrain.

Hanzo referred to his communicator, which flipped on to a blue holograph that displayed the rest of the hidden town behind him. He exited the front of the station to be greeted by his first sight of society. A run-down gas station with large light-up signs and sun-bleached blue paint. It seemed fitting that the only available road to walk on was the road of Route 66, the only other paths available for pedestrians were made of dirt and unmarked. Rolling his luggage around on the shifty terrain proved annoying and slightly difficult. In his flip-flops and tourist inspired attire, Hanzo made his way down to the asphalt, facing the gas station. The dry heat gusted through his hair, and heated him in the grip of the intense sun. Hanzo felt one thing at this moment-- _Thirsty…_ He thought to himself.

He trudged across the radiating ground and passed the vintage gas-pumps. He entered the store and noted rather large men surrounding a couple of bikes, smoking and making talk in gruff, low voices; they stared as Hanzo passed. Hanzo made sure not to pay any mind to them. As the dust-stained door squeaked open, a small bell range out announcing his entrance. The shopkeeper appeared from a backroom with a cigarette in his mouth that was strangely unlit. The man looked disgusting, a stained white wife-beater, long grey hair and a beer belly big enough to match a hog’s. He sniffed and nodded at Hanzo ( _A greeting perhaps_ ), as Hanzo made his way to small, ramshackle fridges that seemed to be on their last limb of life. The conductor of the cold sputtered like a loud gasket. Hanzo reached in for a bottle of Spring Creek water, and was upset to find that the water was just barely chilled. Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the register. Setting the luggage down with a slight scrape, he reached for his wallet. The cashier rang the bottle up that came to a total of $2.60 on the digital display. 

_“Ridiculous…”_ Hanzo thought to himself. He gave the man a 5 dollar bill, and was handed the change, asked if he wanted a receipt and bag, to which he refused and exited the store with a “ _Good day_ ”.

Back out into the intense desert heat, Hanzo drank the water down- more than half of it at once- and continued to where his holomap guided him. The blue line twisted along the crumbled dirt road, and Hanzo followed it for what he felt to be a century. Finally, a large steel door marked the next section of the passage. He went through a rocky tunnel next to the door behind a large sign, and came upon another part of the town. He took in several small buildings grouped together and the ending of the canyon that opened to a rather sharp edge. 

There was a small, boxy blue looking residence to his immediate left, with a large sign that he realized would light up at night that had _The Cave Inn_ in curly letters. Underneath that was a small wooden sign that said in large colored letters _COLOR TV_. The inn smelled like dust and smoke, and the air was clouded with a haze of particulates that seemed like they glowed in the dim, inn light. 

A dirty looking man was standing behind a dark mahogany counter, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette. As Hanzo approached, the man lowered the newspaper and rustled thick, grey moustache as he wiggled his nose. He sniffed and tapped some ash into the tray next to him.

“Can I help you, stranger?” He asked with a grunt, and a cigarette strained drawl. “I would like to check in.” Hanzo replied, looking around. The man went to the wall of keys behind him, scanning the tags of each of them. “Name?”  
“Murakami, Yato.” Hanzo said. Winston had said since Shimada was a recognizable name worldwide, so he had to pick an undercover name. Unfortunately with no cleverness, he picked two very popular names in Japan. 

The man nodded and scanned across the rows, stopping at one of them. He turned and put an old brass key with a large wooden tag on it that read 103 on it. “ID please.” The man put his hand out. Hanzo rummaged through his bag and pulled out his fake Japanese passport, handing it to the man with a smile.

“All the way from Japan, huh? We don’t get many visitors around here anymore.” The man remarked, examining the passport. Hanzo nodded. “Yes. I am here on a business trip; I’ve noticed the land prices nearby are very cheap- I’m looking to buy some.” He smiles. The man smiled and nodded, seeming like it was forced as if he pretended to be interested. “Anyways, here’s your key, you have one complementary bottle of water, and you only get one key. There’s wifi, and two power outlets. The maid comes around 5 every morning, if you need any help let me know.” He said quickly, pushing the key over to the other side of the desk. “Many thanks.” Hanzo smiled and bowed to the man with the key between his closed palms. 

Hanzo ascended the rickety, wooden stares and came to the beginning of a musty hallway, choked with dust and what smelled like a mixture of ammonia and cigarette smoke. Clearing his throat, he continued his walk through the hall, creaking under his weight. He found the correct number and slid the old key into the door slot. The gears of the door ground with age, stripping the metallic parts of the mechanism, it clicked once, then twice to let Hanzo know it was fully disengaged. Pushing the door open with more effort than he had liked, Hanzo entered his little room. The decorum was definitely reflective of the surrounding culture. It was a comfy little room, splashed with age and chipped, off-white wall paper. The room was fully wooden, made from a dark burgundy colored timber. The bed was made up, a thick comforter tucked into the bed frame, and two beaten pillows sat waiting for sleep. There were two windows, both of which were covered by musty, red curtains that looked like that had never moved from their place before. He put his bags down to explore the two doors in the room. One led into a small closet, lined with ramshackle coat hangers, the other leading to the bathroom. The ceramics stained with grout and use, and rings of lime circling around the drains. The one, long fluorescent light that hung just above the mirror flickered on. There was a single bar of soap firmly stuck to the dip in the rim of the sink.

As far as quarters go, Hanzo appreciated the antiquity of the place, and the fact that he got to sleep on a real bed tonight, but all else seemed either to revolt him, or was unpleasant at best. He didn’t like this place, not least due to the old door and jimmy proof deadbolts; he would much prefer a more modern locking mechanism, perhaps a keycard, or a pocket signal. It would have to suffice.

After drinking down the rest of the water, Hanzo unloaded all of his luggage in the space. Hanging his formal outfits in the closet, and throwing the rest in the small cabinet under one of the windows. By this time, the sun had started to lower in the sky, kissing the sides of the sandy canyon with rich, golden light as the blue shadows shifted in the valley below, carrying cool breezes all throughout the pass. Night was just on the cusp of gripping Deadlock Gorge, and Hanzo was eager to find every nook and cranny of the place.

Once it was fully dark, Hanzo slipped on his black kyudo-gi, his climbing enhancements, and strapped Stormbow into a discreet bag on his back. He put a large coat on over his battle garb. He examined the side of the building from the window, feeling it and testing the sustainability, tugging at parts here and there. He concluded that it would make far too much noise to use the window, and that it was too risky facing the road. Instead, he headed back down the hall and into the lobby again. He expected receptionist to be there, but arriving at the lobby, he realized he was gone. Better for him, he thought to himself.

Opening the door back to the sand filled breeze, Hanzo stepped out into the cool, blue shaded air of the approaching night. The light was fading faster than he had initially anticipated, but he blamed part of that on the canyon. He looked the sides of The Valley walls, seeing them stripped in shadow and orange light, as if someone had started to paint the color into the rock, but never finished. He tucked up his collar, feeling a chill run through him, making a note to himself. Desert in the day is scorching, but night in the desert is nearly uncomfortably cold. He’ll have to be prepared to deal with the two extremes of the weather scale.

He began his walk up the street, getting deeper into the side of the valley that he had crossed for his hotel. As he approached a building just next to the motel, the light and camaraderie both became more intense. Bikes lined up under a balcony just outside. Smoke lazily lifted from every window and door that had a crack in it. Hanzo stopped just in front of the first entrance, two swing saloon doors. He leaned against wall, listening to the people as they talked and celebrated.

The bar was busy, and Hanzo could not make out anything too specific- Bragging for range scores, omnic beatings, arm wrestling, darts and drinking. What you would expect from a bunch of rowdy gangsters with nothing else to do. After deciding he would not get anything interesting standing outside the bar, he faced the saloon door. It was like an old western, although Hanzo wouldn’t know it at the time, but as the doors creaked to give way to his entrance, the bar became suddenly quiet, and nearly everyone stopped what they were doing to see what kind of stranger had made his way to little ole Deadlock. Breaking the awkwardness of the moment, Hanzo elected to ignore the various stares that had come his way. He made his way to the bar where an empty seat had caught his attention between two rather large individuals. He nodded at the one to his right as he sat on the high barstool. A long silence held everyone. The bartender stood a few chairs over, rubbing the inside of a large pint glass dry. Finally, someone spoke behind Hanzo.

“Hey, stranger.” A low, rough and threatening voice rumbled just behind Hanzo. He turned to look over his shoulder. The man that stood behind him was equally as giant as the two next to him, except this one had gang tattoos on his forehead, and was dressed in dark brown leather and gaudy plaid. Not only did this man have crazy, bloodshot eyes staring at Hanzo, but also the empty sockets of the winged skull just above them starting dead at him. Hanzo raised his eye in a questioning manner. The man pointed a fat finger towards the bar stool, “That’s my seat, _Hombre_.” He growled.  
Hanzo considered it a moment, looking around at the prying eyes in the room, and accepted his better judgement. He stood, smiled and bowed, his hands out stretched and inviting the man to sit. “My dearest apologies… I am not local here. Please, allow me to pay for your drink.” He flashed another toothy and exaggerated smile to the gangster, who in turn looked utterly confused.

The man sat back down with considerable heft, and grumbled to himself as the bartender slid another pint his way. Hanzo, feigning awkwardness smiled, and scanned the bar for another seat.

A whistle struck him, and he turned his attention to the far end of the bar, in the corner near another exit. “Hey buddy, there’s an empty seat right here.” The man had a squeaky, hysterical sort of voice. One that sounded like it was broken and attempted to be repaired, but was never quite the same again. The man flashed a gap-toothed grin that looked nefarious. Hanzo played dumb, approaching and smiling, graciously accepting the offer. “My thanks.” He offered gladly.

The man laughed in a clownish manner. “Why o’course! We wouldn’t be a proper southern province if we didn’t welcome our guests!” He hung a skinny and bruised arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and pointed to the bartender. “Hey, Gusto, get this man something to drink…” he turns back to Hanzo, “Whatcha want? Ya like tequila?” Before Hanzo has a chance to answer, he tells the bartender “Ey, get him a Snake Bite.” The bartender nods and turns to making the drink.

“Ah… I can only have one, my friend, I have business to attend to in the morning.” He feigned another smile and a laugh.

“Ah, c’mon stranger, everybody’s got _business_ in the mornin’. Most of that is just gettin’ over the hangover they’ll have!” The bar cheers in agreement as the man raises his drink in the air with an, “Am I right?”

A moment later, the bartender slides a small shot glass filled with presumably tequila over to Hanzo. The rim of the cup is salted- or sugared, he couldn’t tell- with a lime wedge slide down the side of the glass. In the bottom of the glass floated a small green mass. Hanzo took the alcohol in hand, actually unsure of what the protocol would be for drinking down this shot. He smiled and turned to his new ‘friend’.

“Perhaps… But I am not from these parts. Perhaps you will show me the way you drink these.” Hanzo asked, taking a finger of salt- or sugar- to test which it was. It was, in fact, salt.

“Well first,” The man started, “Ya take the lime, squeeze some of it in there,” Hanzo did so, “Hold it in your hand, then lick the whole rim of the glass, get all the salt,” And so Hanzo did, his face contorting to the intense saltiness, “And then ya drink the shot all the way down and suck on the lime wedge right after.” And Hanzo did. A sharp bite hit his throat and stomach, and right after a burn of sour. _Snake bite is an accurate name_ , he thought to himself, feigning a cough and slamming a hand on the bar. The man beside him laughed with a piercing howl, that sounded maniacal. “Someone doesn’t know how to take their liquor.” He teased.

Hanzo nodded, “I am not used to such drinks. Bourbon is my preference, or sake. Not anything so rough and tumbled.” He smiled and looked at the glass, fidgeting with it, “Yes, this place will do nicely.” He trailed off to himself.

That awarded him a curious look from the man, “What will it do nicely for?” Hanzo caught a glimpse of the man tugging at something below the bar counter. He thought it was probably a weapon of some sort. But he knew he couldn’t afford to be exposed so soon. He needed more intel on the gang. He cleared his throat, and fidgeted with the glass more, “I am a business man. The land around here is cheap. It could use some infrastructure- some freshening up. I’m here to find local land owners and offer them my services.” He smiled again, “And this place, it seems very quint and homey. I like it.” He sat back, taking out a cigarette he had tucked into the coat pocket, and lit it with his pocket lighter. He took a long drag, and released it, looking back to the man.

“Tell me, what are the locals having to deal with? What are the pros and cons for living here? I’d like to know so that I can start building around the things you all wish to keep.” He smiled at the man, venom was hidden under his calm guise.

“Well,” He started, “I ain’t think you’re gonna get a single deal from any owner here. This town’s thrived on…” He hesitates, searching for the right word, “ _Family owned_ businesses. I ain’t they’re going anywhere, partner.” The man takes another sip of the drink in front of him, and downs another shot that the bartender had replaced. “But, since you’re here, might as well enjoy the sights.” He shrugs. “I recommend staying on the _other_ side of the pass. Much more to see there. The diner, the train, and a whole buncha walkin’ paths if that’s your schtick.” He licks his lips, looking nervous. “I just wouldn’t go messing with anybody with the big skull and wings tatted on them. Not unless you’re fixing for a bruisin’.” He chuckled. He leans closer to Hanzo, close enough for him to show off the tattoo of a skull and wings on his forearm, “Just uh, play by the rules, businessman, and you’re stay here will be just as mighty fine as every other passerby.” He gave his gap-toothed grin again, a wicked sight mixed with his blood-shot eyes.

Hanzo realized that the entire saloon, or maybe even the entire gorge is filled with Deadlock. He feels best continuing his reconnaissance elsewhere. Clearing his throat and feigning a nervous tug at his collar, Hanzo pushes his chair from the bar. “Thank you for the drink… I think I’ll be off now…” He purposefully forces a bit of tremble in his voice to sell it.

As Hanzo is walking out the door, the man is waving, and staring at him like a lunatic. “Enjoy the stay!” He drawls out in a creepy manner. Stepping back out into the chilled breeze, he tightens his collar and drops his coy character. He crosses the street to rocky path leading to the other side of the passage, and hides for a moment behind the pillar of rocks. Before he does anything else, he ascends halfway up the pillar, and peaks out from behind. He scans the window of his motel room, imagining how far anyone would be able to see into them if he had opened the curtains. Concluding his pondering, hopping down and taking out his holovid. He quickly jots notes down for later. The more information, the better.

Back down the path to his right, he sees a closed auto repair shop, and a bridge that connects from the roof to the second floor balcony of the bar. He could see some other structures around the bend of the road, but the darkness didn’t allow a clear look. Hanzo went to the side of the small repair shop, rubbed his hands together and looked to the roof. He took a step and a half back from the wall and sprinted forward up the wall. Hoisting himself up on top of the shop, he looked around, still no avail. He sized up the second level of the bar and decided that higher ground would be better. Balancing his breathing, he sprinted across the bridge and scaled the wall to the roof. He crossed to the other edge and looked around in the little light that was provided by a single, bright, street light below. He saw various little businesses lining the sides of the road, but the road came to a halt to another large metal door carved into the wall of the canyon. At first, Hanzo thought it might be a gate to another section of the gorge, but upon further inspection, he realized it was some sort of large storage facility. All the entrances were shut tight, and various boxes were lining the walls; a winged skull painted sloppily over the metal door. 

Hanzo was just about the jump down to get a closer look when flashes of lights came rounding the bend of the road, and a soft hover motor fired in exhausted motion. Hanzo bowed closer to the rooftop to conceal himself, observing. A giant truck came screeching to a halt just before the large metal door. Laughs erupted from the truck as the passenger door swung open and someone got out. Hanzo couldn’t make out good details, but he guessed it was another gangster. The figure approached the metal door to the side where a panel glowed in standby. The figure did something, presumably scanned a card or chip that had the door slowly ascending with a heavy, mechanized rumble. The figure returned to the truck, letting out an energetic _woo_ before closing the passenger door. The truck pulled into the dark insides of the storage facility. Hanzo was not able to get a good look of what was in there from where he was, and he decided against chasing through the door. Instead, once the door closed again, he hopped to a platform resting on a rock pillar, just in front of what he presumed to be houses. Below him stood a door, smaller, but still metal. Another glowing panel was installed directly beside it. He looked around for cameras or prying eyes before hopping to the ground to examine the panel further. He found that it was a keypad lock- archaic for this day and age. He moved carefully, fingering the frame of the panel, finding lift and popping the outer shell off to expose the wiring underneath. 

He thought perhaps that he could ask Overwatch for some sort of code that might hack the panel open, but could not complete the thought before he heard gravel shift behind him. Quickly and quietly, he rounded the rock pillar in the opposite direction of the noise. He pushed against the rock with his back, flattening in against it. He quieted his breathing, listening for the smallest sign of movement. The gravel shifts tracked footsteps of someone getting closer, their voices now within earshot. One voice he recognized as the gap-toothed man from the bar, but the other he had never heard. It was deep, threatening, and spoke with authority, a slight drawl licking at his words.

“Yeah, I don’t think we gotta worry about it, boss. Don’t think any businessman is gonna threaten our lil gorge.” Chuckled the gap-tooth, almost nervously. The two had moved to the door that Hanzo was just inspecting- he kept as still as his body would let him.

“Good.” Affirmed the boss, in a threateningly friendly tone, “If he gives y’all any trouble, just kill him.” He laughed himself, maniacal and menacing. The door buzzed, opening, and before the boss had gone in, he stopped and turned back to the gap-tooth. “Oh, and Mike, make sure our newest cargo is nice and comfortable. If he doesn’t start talkin’, I’ll take care of McCree. We can replace him… He’s gotten too soft since the crash.” A pause took hold of the moment, and after a second the boss spoke again, “Tell the others. I got a feeling this one won’t be doing any talking.”

The other man chuckled high, like he was entertained. “You got it, Dixon.” He affirmed. After a few seconds, the gravel shifted away and the door bolted shut again. Hanzo stayed put, processing the information. They had been talking about McCree- he is here. Good, Hanzo thought he might have a chance to bring him back. And he has the possible suspect of the gang leader, Dixon. For a first day, it’s a great start. But the problem now is, who will get to McCree first, him, or Dixon?

 

Hanzo decided that he had enough for tonight, and after a lazy scout through the rest of the valley headed back to his room. He unclothed, showered begrudgingly, combed his hair into a neat ponytail again, and wrestled with good sleep for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after more than a year, I continued to write this?? I don't know why? I just got bored I guess. Sorry for the long wait but I'm in the last year of school and will be done with exams in April, so I probably won't be working on this much, but this has just been jammed through free times.
> 
> So... Probably more later... Maybe...?

**Author's Note:**

> Proud to share this with all of you! This took some creative vibes and encouragement from AlmaMeDuele, who wrote THE McHanzo fiction, Hang the Fool: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7127210/chapters/16186526  
> I didn't know I wanted this ship until I read that fic, forreal. Anyways! I really hope you all enjoyed this, I wrote this in literally 3 days, and it was meant to be longer, but I think 7 1/2 pages is enough for one chapter.  
> -TITLE INSPIRATION:  
> Old Western slang phrases
> 
> Above Snakes- If you were "above snakes,” you were above ground - meaning still alive.
> 
> Ace-High- Depending upon the context, this might mean "first class and respected”, or it could mean a winning poker hand.
> 
> Chapter 2 coming soon!


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